


Repo Count! The Botanic Opera

by HungLikeARainbro



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors, Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood Drinking, Crossover, M/M, Murder, Surgery, Will add tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungLikeARainbro/pseuds/HungLikeARainbro
Summary: A mysterious murderer working worldwide is taking organs from his victims - transplants from animals. Detective Orcot is led to Chinatown after an encounter with The Night Surgeon, where he meets an almost-identical reclusive young beauty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1: I did a web search to see if there was anything already similar and nothing turned up, but I apologise if this already exists, or used to in the past.  
> 2: Animal transplants aren't really viable options in the real word, but they exist in PSOH universe.  
> 3: This will probably not be as violent/gory as PSOH or Repo! (I am the worst person in the word to tackle this, I apologise) but I'll do my best.  
> 4: This will involve physiological traits with the D species that aren't necessarily what I think is likely to be canon, but it suits the story. Though Papa 'conceives' D, there is no traditional MPREG (D is still a clone).  
> 5: There are no direct character correlations between universes, but as much as possible D is Shilo, Papa is Nathan/Repo Man and Sofu is Rotti.  
> 6: There will be random lines and terms scattered in the story from Repo! but the plot is only loosely connected.

**Out from the night from the mist steps a figure.  
** **No-one really knows his name for sure.**  
**Though five foot six, head and shoulders –**  
**Pray he never comes knocking at your door.**

“The guy’s been hacking people up just a few months and he’s already got folklore about him? Fuck me.”

The Chief of Police threw another stack of files at the griping detective. “A few months in L.A, Orcot. He’s been pretty notorious worldwide for twenty years.”

The detective’s keen eyes roved over the other papers. “They’re certain it’s the same guy?”

“Maybe not every single murder. You’ll always have copy-cats with high-profile cases. But he’s definitely moving his way around the globe.” The Chief leant forward casting him a dark look. “You’re still green, kid, but you’re gifted. That’s why I’m putting you on such a big case. Don’t let us down.”

“Change your profile of the murderer.”

The Chief blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve profiled the typical slasher; white male, middle-aged, loner, suburban dweller. You want an Asian man. Age I’m not sure on. Loner probably, but he lives in the city.”

“Your reasoning?”

Orcot tapped a map he’d drawn out of one of the files. “Every place he’s hit has had a Chinatown. Perfect place to blend in when you’re an Asian in a foreign country. I know I can’t tell them apart.”

“Good work. See what else you can figure out and do some sleuthing.”

“You got it, Chief.”

Detective Orcot gathered up all the evidence and headed for his desk, slumping back in the rickety office chair and spinning around until he was mildly nauseous. He had other hunches, but he was going to keep his cards close to his chest for now. He needed a drink to ruminate over and it was only a couple of hours until he was off the clock. He pulled on his jacket the second the coast was clear and threw himself into the nearest and cheapest bar. He staggered back out again close to midnight, with a few more ideas about the culprit and a few sheets to the wind. He left his car at the station and walked to his apartment block. It was a balmy night – and quiet – so to the detective it was perfect for a leisurely sobering stroll. By the time he got home he could cram in a couple of extra beers in front of the television.

Two blocks from home his hyper-sensitive instincts (the ones that had garnered him a lot of interest and praise from the higher-ups in the force) kicked into gear. He felt for his gun in its holster and slipped into the alleyway from where he had heard a faint noise. As his eyes adjusted he could see a figure hunched over near the ground where another person lay still.

The detective raised his gun. “Hands where I can see them.”

There was a light laugh from the shadowed figure. “Why should I?”

“Because I’ve got you cornered and I’m feeling trigger-happy tonight.”

“As if I’d let a mere human sneak up on me.” The other man turned, delicately flicking his long black hair out of the way, and his white teeth shone in the few beams of light tunnelling through the alleyway’s blackness. “Your little toy is laughable.”

_An Asian like I predicted_ , the detective thought, _but he’s barely out of his twenties. He has to be a copy-cat._ He took a step forward but the other man barely flinched. 

__Instead he lifted his prize aloft – the victim’s heart. “If you’ll excuse me, young man, it is better to get this home whilst it’s still fresh. Farewell.”_ _

__As the detective squeezed the trigger, the Asian man threw a cloud of heavily-scented powder at the ground. Orcot never knew if he hit his mark. He fell down coughing and wheezing as his lungs and eyes burned. When the smoke cleared the culprit had long gone and the eviscerated body of a young woman lay cold before him._ _

____

**He’ll just rip your still-beating heart from your chest.**

**/////**

The young man paused in his creeping down the hall towards his father’s laboratory. It was the first time in several years that he had seen him and it was anger rather than curiosity that burned inside his chest. He reached for the small purse hanging from the sash holding his robe in place and unfastened the lion-shaped netsuke to pull out a little glass vial. The residue inside stained it red but through it he could see his grandfather at the other end of the hall frowning disapprovingly at him.

“You are not to bother him, understood?”

“Yes, grandfather,” he answered meekly and let him take the vial from his hand. “Will he be staying long this time?”

“Hopefully not. Once he has collected enough flesh for your medicine he will move on.” The grandfather – Sofu in their language – regarded him with scrutiny. “Do not make that face.”

“I apologise, grandfather. I dislike being reminded that…”

“I know.” Sofu hid the vial away in his sleeve. “At least you can be reassured no innocent creature died to save your meagre life.”

He nodded. As a child he had been distressed to discover his medicine was made from animal flesh but relieved to be told it was a by-product of human industry. He recalled his father sitting him upon his knee and tenderly stroking his face as he explained agriculture and animal husbandry. A terrifying concept to his young mind but he slept better than he had the previous nights.

It could have been a sweet memory if he hadn’t learned of his father’s true nature.

Sofu swept past him abruptly towards the parlour. “We are open soon. Prepare for the day.”

He nodded again and followed, lifting his head and wearing the cold professional smile of Count D.

**/////**

“I know you’re disappointed, Orcot. But your first night on the case and you actually find the guy? That’s amazing police work.”

Detective Orcot slammed his hands down on the chief’s desk. “It was dumb luck Chief, and I’m not disappointed – I’m pissed. He got away. I hate losing perps.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were right that it was an Asian. Chinese you reckon?”

“Only from the clothes. He was wearing one of those long shirt things with a collar, and pants. But he had like geisha make-up on. I dunno… it was dark.” He held up the sketch he’d collaborated upon with the police artist. It wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t known how to put the man’s beauty in words so he’d asked the artist to draw what he thought was attractive in an Asian woman and they’d amended it from there. 

“We’ll get him,” the Chief foolishly promised, “especially now we’ve got a living eyewitness. We can start to confirm a few more of your theories.”

The detective pondered over them for the rest of the morning. For one thing, he hadn’t been sure of the reasons behind the murderer taking away part of the victims’ bodies. But the man had said he needed the heart he held to be fresh. At first he’d thought it was a trophy – now it was starting to look more like a snack.

“Technically not cannibalism,” Orcot told one of his colleagues later at the water cooler. “Every organ that’s been taken was a donor organ from an animal.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” she said.

“He’s probably an activist. A hippy that doesn’t want animals killed for medicine.”

She glanced at the sketch he was still holding. “Doesn’t look like one. Too clean. Too pure. And it doesn’t make a lick of sense, Leon. The animal isn’t saved by killing someone after the fact.”

“I don’t try to understand these guys on that kind of level. Just enough to predict their next strike.”

“And have you?”

He hung his head and stared at the flat flavourless liquid sloshing around its paper cup. “No. But I’m headed for Chinatown after lunch. That’s my best lead so far.”

“Want me to come with? I know a little Mandarin.”

“Thanks Jill, but I might get more out of people if it’s one-on-one. They’re less intimidated.”

She wished him luck and he went back to his desk to prepare some notes for his afternoon inquisition.

**/////**

Leon wasn’t in Chinatown long before the name ‘Count D’ landed in his lap. At his description several people directed him to a pet shop claiming it had to be the proprietor. He was sceptical, but it was the only clue he had. There was nothing about the shop front that let on to its contents apart from the sign, and this served to confuse Leon further. When he went inside it didn’t smell like a pet shop. No hay or sawdust or fur or food or faeces. Just a strange heady scent of sweetness. The detective had smelled it before but he was having trouble placing the fragrance. He was busy poking around all the foliage and pots and furniture when a door opened behind him.

“Welcome to Count D’s pet shop – where we sell love, dreams, and hope.”

“You!” exclaimed Leon, his neck bones making an unpleasant sound in his head from his sharp turn towards the familiar voice. He faltered. The resemblance was uncanny but this gorgeous young man was not the one he was looking for. “You…” he repeated unsteadily. “Who are you?”

“I am called Count D, though it is not my name.” His beautiful face was frozen in a polite smile. “I run this shop in place of my grandfather.”

“No other relatives?”

He slowly closed his eyes for a moment. “A father. He is adventuring around the globe as far as I know.”

Leon stared at this calm young man before him. His father fit the profile, but there was no way the man from last night was old enough. “Fuck, I knew Asians aged well but that’s impossible,” he muttered under his breath before continuing his interrogation. “No contact with him then?”

“None. I couldn’t care less what he does with himself.”

No love lost there it seemed. Leon flicked open his lighter and pulled a cigarette out of the box in his shirt pocket. “This cool?”

Count D wrinkled his nose. “I would rather you didn’t. It bothers the animals.”

Leon looked around the plant and junk-filled room. “Right.”

“Rest assured Mr… ah?”

He decided it was best to conceal his identity for the moment. “You can call me Leon.”

“Oh?” The young man’s eyes shone excitedly – the first evidence of personality he’d shown. “Such a pretty name! It means lion, yes? How perfectly suitable.”

“Thanks.”

“Leon,” he said again with a strange passion for the word, “Leon, there are indeed animals in my shop. I keep them safely out back – away from the noise and bustle of the customers. Only once we have agreed upon a contract do I show them their new companion. Are you here for a pet?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no. Yesterday I ran into someone I was hoping you could help me find again. Someone who looked exactly like you. Only…”

“Only?” The face had turned cold again.

“You’re way cuter,” he blurted and then blushed at his compliment. It felt strange to tell another man he was cute, especially as it was what he genuinely thought. Count D wasn’t his usual type with his feminine clothing, make-up and soft features. But Leon had never called a man pretty in his life and he wasn’t about to start now. “Your eyes are different. And your hair,” he added and raised a hand to brush it from Count D’s face but he flinched away from the touch with a look of dismay. Leon snatched his hand back. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“Would you like some tea?” the other man asked, hurriedly changing the subject. “It’s a delicious blend from a region of India wher-”

“I don’t have time Count, but thanks.”

“‘Count’ is my grandfather’s title. If you were to shorten my name ‘D’ would be more appropriate.”

“Okay, I’ll call you D.”

His pale cheeks pinched with pink at the audacity of this stranger taking such liberties with his name. “Very well.”

“Great. Listen, uh, I feel bad running out on you already. I could stop by tomorrow for tea?”

“That would be delightful,” he said after some consideration. He had questions of his own for this man. Who he had seen – though D was fairly certain of the answer – and why he was so desperate to find them.

“Should I bring something?”

D snapped out of his reverie and his eyes shone again. “I have not had chocolate for such a long time.”

“A red velvet cake sound good?”

If D were a less composed man he might have drooled. “That would be delightful. Vegetarian, if you please.”

“Got it. Cake and tea. Same time?”

“Wonderful.”

Leon left the shop dumbfounded at how he’d managed to make a date with a potential murder suspect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Papa being Papa, D and Leon interro-flirting, and Sofu being an arsehole.

“Grandson, did I hear a customer leave earlier without a purchase?” Sofu chided as he entered the parlour for closing time.

“My apologies, grandfather. But he is returning tomorrow. I shall work much harder then.”

“See that you do. This is not a zoo for humans to gawk and gape at beautiful creatures for free.”

D thought it prudent not to point out that most zoos charged admission and excused himself. Whilst his grandfather was distracted he wanted to see his father about the handsome man that had visited the pet shop. He picked up one of his favourite pets – a little racoon named Pon-chan – and walked softly to the door of the laboratory. It was like any other door in the shop; thick and heavy and elaborately carved with a nature motif. But D quivered with nerves as he adjusted Pon-chan safely out of the way and pushed his weight against it. The door groaned open and they peeked their heads through the gap.

His father had his back to them as he pottered around between a few machines and computers talking in a low voice. D wasn’t technologically minded, having been raised by his old-fashioned and traditional grandfather, so he would never have been able to identify any of them even if he were nosy enough.

His father stood straighter suddenly and looked over his shoulder at him with a smile. “Now I’m certain my father didn’t raise you to be the kind of boy to enter without knocking.”

“I’m sorry,” said D as his hair fell into his eyes from where he lowered his gaze in shame. “I forgot my manners.”

“I’m teasing you, my darling. My door is always open to you.” He switched off one of the monitors he was working on and went to greet D. “And you should call me ‘Papa’. You always used to.”

“I was a mere child,” he replied haughtily and then stopped in horror. “Your head!”

“Ah,” said Papa touching the dressing above his temple. “A small wound obtained during my work yesterday. Nothing to fret about.”

 _Yesterday_ , thought D. _The blond man from this afternoon said he’d met a man that looked like me yesterday._ “What happened?”

“Just a mishap. You get clumsy when you’re an old man like me,” he said and tickled the purring racoon under her chin.

D frowned. Part of Leon’s confusion over their identities was that Papa was no old man, not physically at least. Count D, his son, and his grandson all looked exactly the same, apart from their eyes and Papa’s hair. The Count and his grandson had bobbed hair; Sofu’s parted in the middle and D’s parted to the side so the heavier layer could obscure where his one eye was golden. Papa had chosen to grow his hair down past his hips. Sofu thought it terribly impractical and vain; D agreed because Sofu was always right.

Papa smiled and motioned for D to follow him to what looked like a metal cabinet. He opened it and it was revealed to be a refrigerator full of the little glass vials. “You should have at least three month’s worth in here.” He noticed how D shuddered at the sea of red and closed the door hurriedly. “I’m sorry, my darling. It is my fault you need this.”

D decided to steer the conversation back to the blond man. “Did you see anyone yesterday? A human.”

“I see many humans all day. Unfortunately they’re everywhere.”

“Not one stood out?”

Papa eyed him curiously. “Why the sudden interest?”

“A man came in today. He thought he recognised me but it must have been you he saw.” D never left the pet shop – he was too sick, it was too risky – and he knew for a fact that Sofu hadn’t gone out. He avoided the human world as much as possible, to the point that he had left the care of his own customers to his grandson.

“What did he look like?” Papa asked.

D tried not to blush as he recalled the man’s features. “Wavy blond hair in a ponytail. Angular jaw and nose. Tall, well-built.”

For a moment Papa’s calm exterior betrayed his worry but it quickly settled back into its normal sly smile. “Sounds quite dashing. I would definitely remember a man like that.”

“Father!”

“I’m sorry, my darling. Have you already laid a claim to him?”

“FATHER!” D’s entire face went red as he held Pon-chan tightly and marched out in embarrassment, his father’s gentle laughter wafting after them.

**/////**

Leon had put a finger on the fanciest name in the directory when trying to find a patisserie for D’s gift but he hadn’t been prepared for just how fancy it would be. He walked to the pet shop with a far lighter wallet than he left home with, but the cake he had bought looked stunning and even he was looking forward to tasting it though he was normally a very simple man when it came to food; black coffee for breakfast, burrito for lunch, and virtually any combination of meat and carbohydrates for dinner.

“Fucking cake cost more than a week of lunches,” he grumbled but his spirit was lifted when he approached the pet shop and found D waiting outside for him turning a ‘Closed for Lunch’ sign and wearing a beautiful and intricately decorated long shirt. Leon approached casually and opened with, “I like your dress.”

D pouted. “It is not a dress. It is a cheongsam,” he began to scold but his expression immediately changed when he saw the cardboard box in Leon’s hands. “Is that from La Saleté? That must have cost a fortune!”

“Nah,” he lied. “But I wasn’t expecting the queue. Must’ve been there an hour at least. Glad I went early.”

D’s eyes shimmered with gratitude and he pulled him into the parlour for a much-needed drink of tea which was far too sweet for Leon’s taste but he was so thirsty he gulped it down. D watched him in amusement as he poured his own tea, refreshed Leon’s cup, and began to cut up the cake.

“Sorry, I should’ve waited for you,” Leon said and managed to sneak the cup away from D before he could pour in a mountain of sugar. He sipped the plain tea. _Much better_ , he thought and looked up at D over the rim of the cup. D expertly and delicately held the right sleeve of his shirt out of the way with his other arm and sliced through the airy sponge in three neat cuts.

They ate in silence for the first few bites until D paused to take up his tea. Leon started his subtle interrogation. “So you live here alone?”

“Oh no. There are many animals here.”

“I meant people. Family.”

D considered his answer carefully. He had mentioned his grandfather to Leon yesterday, but not that he lived in the shop. But Leon would never assume Sofu looked the same age as D. “My grandfather is home, but he rarely enters the shop past opening and closing time. He’s not very… sociable.”

“And your dad travels around. He never comes home?”

“Rarely.”

“Papa’s a rolling stone, huh?” Leon understood that very well. His own father had dropped his mother and him the first chance he got. 

“Something like that.” D returned to his cake and the tiny fork clinked against the plate as Leon watched and calculated his next question. How did one ask what another person’s father looked like without coming across as weird?

Leon finished his cake in one voracious bite and washed it down. “My pop wasn’t up to much. But from the sound of him I’m lucky I got my mom’s looks. What about you?”

“I do not look like my mother,” D replied as it was true. He didn’t have a mother.

Leon sensed the curtness of his answer and dropped the subject. There was plenty of time and they were supposed to be having a nice tea. He stared hungrily at the rest of the cake. D had cut him barely a sliver and he hadn’t had anything since his morning coffee. His stomach rumbled its disapproval.

D tittered. “Would you like some more cake?”

Leon nodded enthusiastically and felt a bit weird about the situation. It was such a formal polite scenario, sitting upright on a couch and nibbling on treats. He’d rarely in his life felt so under pressure to mind his manners. He felt almost _watched_.

He rolled his shoulders and relaxed back into the cushions, spreading his legs casually. “This is a nice room. You bring a lot of customers back here?”

“Not often,” said D, happy to be complimented on the décor. “It is only for special occasions.” 

They both went a little red at his implication but their embarrassment was interrupted by Pon-chan and another animal – having taken an interest in the delicious smells coming from their teatime. They had snuck in from the back rooms and crawled beneath Leon’s couch to snatch a piece of his cake from the plate. He jumped up at the sensation of fur against his arm and was greeted by a bite to his rear.

“T-chan!” D screamed in distress. “Bad Tetsu, bad!”

“The fuck is that!”

T-chan snickered and clambered onto D’s lap purring for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Count D. His blood smells bad but his ass looked so tasty.”

“That is no excuse.”

Leon stared at them. “Are you talking to your goat? Man you really need to get out more.”

D stared back. Most people, depending upon their situation, saw the animals in the same humanoid form that all his kind did when under the influence of the shop’s special incense. It was part of their trickery to convince the customers to leave with specific pets.

Pon-chan jumped up next to Leon and he scooted back in concern. “That a racoon? I’m not gonna get rabies am I?”

“How rude!” she snapped. “I do NOT have rabies.”

“Pon-chan is perfectly clean, I assure you.”

“Can it have cake?”

“Yes she can. Racoons will eat most things,” said D and his heart fluttered as Leon broke off a piece and fed it to the complacent child that curled up on his lap.

Leon grinned at the little racoon turning the snack around in her hands and chewing happily. “Heh, she’s actually kinda cute.”

“Not the only cute thing, right Count D?” said T-chan, eyeing the blush on D’s cheeks. He hissed at the Tetsu to be quiet and pushed him back onto the floor.

**/////**

“How long do you plan on darkening my doorstep this time?”

Papa smiled genially at his father over his microscope though he didn’t much feel like it. He had no problem with his son disturbing his research – it was for his benefit after all – but with his father it felt more like sabotage. He still hadn’t slept having been up all night stalking his prey and his body and mind were lagging. His temper was short and Sofu loved to hold an open flame near the fuse as Papa tended to run far away again when he was suitably angered.

Sofu opened the refrigerator and counted the little glass vials. “I imagine you’ll leave when there’s a year’s worth. That’s your usual timeframe, hm? You’re behind, however. You normally have six months by now.”

“Donors are scarce.”

“In Los Angeles? Doubtful.”

Papa rubbed his forehead. His wound throbbed fiercely. “I admit I have been laid-back and infrequent with my attacks this sojourn. I am spending more time with my experiments.”

“My shop,” Sofa sneered as he leaned into his son’s workspace, “is not your portable laboratory.”

“I do all this to help my son; your grandchild,” he pointed out.

“You do this to ease your own guilt. To cover your shame. That poor child – infected by his genetics.” Sofu sighed deeply with his hand upon his chest. “It’s heart-breaking, it really is.”

“I have an organ donor lined up for tonight,” said Papa suddenly. “I shall be out from midnight until morning.”

Sofu was used to being ignored by his son and especially when he had spoken the truth. He didn’t excuse himself. He simply swept out in a passive-aggressive huff and left Papa to his tinkering.


End file.
